Beautiful Poem
by IT Bluebead TI
Summary: One-shot. School assignments can be boring. But if one was to do them together, who knows, they might be fun. Fluff. T for a single swearword


**I'm supposed to do my very best for school, but I just HAD to write this off of me.  
>It's about the greens.<br>Enjoy!**

**I don't own the Powerpuff Girls.**

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><p><em>TICK – TOCK –TICK – TOCK…<em>

The seconds pass by slowly in the dull classroom. The ticking of the round clock, hanging above the door next to the chalkboard, indicates the slipping of time with a nerve-racking pace. At least, it is for the students trapped inside the room.  
>Two emerald green eyes stare as hypnotized at the small piece of modern technology, following the second hand and registering its every tick and tock.<p>

The raven-haired girl clenches her fist tighter around her pencil, almost breaking it, and taps her feet repeatedly on the floor. _C'mon! Hurry up and get me out of here!_  
>Realizing time doesn't listen to anyone, she fixates her eyes on the teacher in the front of the room for only a split-second and after having noticed that he's still reading his paper, a smirk forms on her face while her eyes dart outside. <em>Alright! Mr. Lupus is too busy with his paper so if I can last for another five minutes, I'll have an absolutely perfect, homework-free weekend!<br>_  
>Outside, the weather is, in one word, delightful. The sun is out, making the world bathe in a mood-enlightening light. Early crocuses announce the beginning of spring. Little buds have appeared on the trees and some of them have already sprouted while nature itself starts to blossom, once more influenced by the changing of seasons. From her place in the classroom, Buttercup can look right into the huge park. Men were taking their dogs for a walk, young children, not yet charged with the duty of going to school on a daily base, were happily playing on the grass fields, while elder women were sitting on the benches, scattering crumbs of bread for the eager birds to take.<p>

The young teen sighs heavily while turning back to the piece of paper lying in front of her. Two words are written on the top of the page: 'Love poem'. She growls, leaning back in her seat and playing with her pencil. _What kind of a stupid assignment is this anyways? Seriously, what's so interesting in writing poems?_ Another glance at the clock: two more minutes. _It won't be long now…_

Suddenly, the sound of paper that's been folded breaks the silent. The teacher lies down his paper, glances at the clock and clears his throat.

Buttercup's smile melts like ice before sun when he declares, "Alright, class! Hand in your poems!"  
>Buttercup stares at the blank paper in front of her and hurriedly scribbles something down while the other students bring their masterpieces to the front of the classroom. With a triumphant smile and her bag already over her shoulder, she hands in her paper. The teacher takes the scrap-paper between his index finger and his thumb to unfold it slowly.<p>

"Buttercup", he mutters, his severe voice popping her happy balloon like a sharp needle, "THIS was not what I meant by writing a love poem." She raises an eyebrow, "What's so bad about it?" He gives her a severe look and reads aloud:

"You love me,  
>I love you,<br>woohoo!"

She grins sheepishly at him. Honestly, she hadn't really paid attention to what she had written so hastily, but now that her teacher read it aloud, she couldn't help but blush at the awful poem. Inwardly, she shrugs, _Oh well, it was a stupid assignment to begin with. And on top of that, it's not like I'm known as the overly romantic type._

"Buttercup, if you don't make a decent poem before six o'clock tonight, I have no other choice but to give you an insufficient for English."  
>Buttercup's eyes widen and she utters, "Y-You can't be serious!"<br>"I'm sorry", is all he says. "But sir, it's weekend!" He turns back around with a smile, "Well, then you better hurry. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can go out and have fun."  
>After a final wink, he leaves a thunderstruck Buttercup alone in the classroom. After two or three seconds, she snatches her paper from the desk with a loud growl and stomps out of the classroom.<p>

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><p><em>A poem. A poem. I need a poem.<em>  
>With the end of her pen, she taps herself several times on the chin. A dark look stays plastered on her face while the rest of the outside world happily runs past her. On her paper are written multiple lines but each and every one of them has been scratched out. Growling, she throws her map away from her and leans back against the tree she's sitting under.<p>

"Hey! Can't you be a little quiet over there? Sheesh!"

Scowling, she moves herself around the tree to look who was so rude to yell at her, but her eyes widen when she sees a raven-haired, green-eyed boy sitting against the tree in an equal position as hers, a paper and a pencil in his hands.

"Seriously", she hears him mutter, "Some people really think they're all alone in the world."  
>"Excuse me!", she snaps, glaring daggers at him while he jumps around out of surprise, "But I'm trying to write a poem over here and your constant yapping is interfering with my concentration!"<br>He blinks a couple of times and then smirks broadly, "Well well, if it isn't Butterbut! What a nice surprise to see you out here."  
>"Shut up!", she snaps, "At least then you won't be talking and I'll have some peace and quiet."<p>

She turns back to her side of the tree and picks up the pencil and her map which hold her paper. She places her pencil on the sheet, just as Butch's head appears from behind the tree.

"You said you were writing a poem?"  
>"Yeah, what about it?", she mutters, scribbling down on her paper.<br>"Care to do mine for me?"  
>She turns to face him, glaring suspiciously, "What are you talking about?"<br>"Well, you see", he scratches his head, holding up a piece of paper which looks a lot like hers, only more scratched on and wrinkled, "I have to write a poem as well. For English class."  
>She raises an eyebrow, "You're kidding me. Mister Lupus?"<br>He nods, a grim face while he thinks of his dear English teacher. She sighs.  
>"How am I ever gonna write a freakin' LOVE poem before six o'clock this evening?"<p>

Suddenly, she sees Butch walk around the tree and slump down beside her.

"What do you think you're doing?", she snaps, her glare returning in all his glory.  
>"Relax", he mutters, taking back his sheet and pencil, "If we work together, we might figure something out sooner than when we're working alone."<br>Her face softens when she realizes he has a point there. Giving in, she sighs and places her pencil against her chin again.

After some minutes of chin-tapping form the one and pencil-chewing from the other, Butch sighs heavily and puts his paper on the ground, "I can't think of anything. I'm out of inspiration."  
>"Look, mister Casanova", Buttercup groans, "You're the one here that's supposed to be the expert when it comes to love. I'm not the one who hooks up with whatever wears a skirt!"<br>He glares at her, "Shut up! At least I know what love is, you don't."

This hurt her more than she would admit, but being the Buttercup she was, she wouldn't give in to those feelings and instead folds her arms, thinking of a comeback.

"It's not because I don't have a boyfriend that I don't know what love is! I just don't sell my love like it's a good-for-nothing tool, only useful for the art of flirting and hitting on whatever girl I pass. You go out with every girl in school! Well, every girl but one."

He snaps his head up from his little glare-contest with a nearby lying leaf to look at her.  
>"What did you say?", he asks, blinking his eyes while watching her turn pink.<br>"N-nothing", she mutters, looking away to glare at a stone, "It's not like it would matter to you."

From the corner of her eyes, she sees him count on his fingers.  
>"What are you doing?", she snaps, turning back to face him.<br>"Who could I have missed?", he mutters, running through his endless list of girlfriends.  
>"Are you kidding me?", she shouts, glaring even harder.<p>

He glances at her and then he smirks when realization strikes him, "Buttercup! It's YOU!"  
>"What?"<br>"You're the only girl in school I haven't gone out with yet!", he smirks wider, like he had just made a discovery of a lifetime, which would surely result in a future Noble prize.  
>"Geez, it sure took you long enough to figure that out", she smirks, trying to hide her unease.<br>"Oh my, Buttercup! I never thought you would want to go out with me so badly! Why didn't you just say so?", he grins devilishly.  
>"Stay away, you creep!", she shouts, moving away and placing her hand in front of her to hold him off, "There's no way I would want to go out with you! I just noticed, that's all!"<p>

There follows a long silence.

Shuffling nervously, she suddenly mutters, "So, why didn't you ask?"  
>He glances at her from aside, his eyebrow raising in a way to ask for further explanation.<br>"You know", she says, tapping her feet in irritation, "Why didn't you ask me out?"  
>He stares at her for a moment and then turns back to face the ground.<p>

"I guess I didn't feel like it", he mutters.  
>She wants to snap at him, but keeps silent when he continues, "I always feel strange around you, not like with other girls. Normally, I would just walk up to a girl and ask her straight-out, my charm doing the rest. But with you", he points his finger at her, "I feel… weird. My stomach aches, my feet wobble and my ears ring. I can't understand what it is, but I just couldn't ask you."<p>

Buttercup stares at him, perplexed. The beat of her heart climbs until she can feel it in her throat while his words seep into her brain. She feels her cheeks turn red.  
><em>Does he realize he's love-confessing?<em>

After a long pause, she coughs in her hands and mutters, "You should try to write those feelings down."  
>"You really think so?", he asks, staring at her.<br>"Y-yeah, they're good", she says, trying to hide her blush.

She sounds hoarse, the nerves getting to her voice.  
>"Yeah", he mutters, but then his face brightens, "You're right, I'll do it! I'll write a poem about my favorite girl in the world!"<br>"Exactly… Wait, WHAT?"  
>"Thanks, Butterbabe", he smirks, leaning towards her.<p>

She sees his nearing face and wants to back off, but finds herself unable to move. That's how their lips meet, warm and flowing, on a hot day in a bright-lit park on an early spring day.

Buttercup has turned completely scarlet by the time Butch pulls away with a smirk.  
>"Wh-what was that for?", she shouts after a moment, hoping he wouldn't take notice of her blushing.<br>"See it as my way of thanking you for the inspiration", he smirks.

Then he stands up, swings his bag over his shoulder and walks off, but not before turning back to wave, "See you tonight at the Spring Club?"  
>She nods, not really realizing what he had just said, still paralyzed by this new experience. She sees him smirk and turn around, taking off and flying away, leaving a forest green streak behind.<p>

With her hand, she touches her lips, where he had touched her. _My first kiss._  
>She jumps up, grabs her things in the blink of an eye and flies back home.<p>

After having come in through her window, not wanting to have to deal with one of her family members, she lets herself fall onto her bed, hiding her red face in the pile of pillows. However, she finds herself unable to lie still, so she takes back the paper and the pencil. She walks over to her desk and takes a seat. Once more, she starts scribbling down on the sheet, while thinking back at the last thing Butch had said to her.  
><em>Seems like I'm going to the Spring Club tonight.<em> She smirks at herself. She holds her paper in the air before her and from a certain distance, reads what she has written. With an approving nod, she flies back to school to hand in her poem.  
><em>Well, who would've thought I could be the romantic type?<em>, she smirks at herself.

The poem repeats itself in her mind while she disappears behind the clouds, her lemon green streak the only evidence she had ever been there, the sun setting on her and ending the early spring day.

'When your stomach aches butterflies,  
>when your ears ring with chimes<br>and your heart speeds like a speeding drum,  
>your legs feel like bubblegum,<br>you're head over heels and yap like a cooing dove,  
>that's when you know, you're in love.'<p>

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! :D<strong>


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